


i can feel you across the circuits

by akamine_chan



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Community: no_tags, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-28 06:45:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15043061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: It's a lovely evening, cool and clear, and from this rooftop, Ray can see almost the entire city, glittering glass and stark outlines. It's that liminal part of the day, where the light is slowly giving way to darkness. It always feels magical to Ray, this gradual, imperceptible transition between day and night.





	i can feel you across the circuits

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to Prophetic and Ande for beta work and brainstorming. \o/
> 
> When I saw the prompt, the first thing that popped into my head was the song "Hands Around My Throat" by Death In Vegas. Which reminded me of the Matrix, and I had an image of a rooftop and Ray and Gerard.
> 
> Written for the no_tags challenge, prompt #1: _Ray Toro/Gerard Way, those hands around your throat_

It's a lovely evening, cool and clear, and from this rooftop, Ray can see almost the entire city, glittering glass and stark outlines. It's that liminal part of the day, where the light is slowly giving way to darkness. It always feels magical to Ray, this gradual, imperceptible transition between day and night. 

The skyline is backlit, steel, glass, and neon. As the sun goes down, a different part of the city wakes, the nightshifters. Ray does most of his biz at night, like everyone who has something to hide. He likes it that way; he's always had an affinity for the night.

Ray’s tracks Gerard as far as this unremarkable rooftop, flat with a layer of gravel over tar. He turns slowly on his heel and there—a distant figure standing on the edge.

The gravel crunches under Ray's feet as he walks closer. The details resolve as he nears: Gerard's dark hair moving gently in the breeze, the shiny silver buttons on his black shirt, the stitching on the seams of his black jeans. His pale skin, and the kohl that emphasizes his wide eyes.

Gerard always wears black with touches of silver, a weird neo-gothic affectation that is ridiculously overdramatic. And yet, it suits him perfectly.

He's smoking a cigarette, and when Ray is close enough to see the expression on his face, Gerard smiles.

There is something ethereal, almost otherworldly in the tilt of Gerard's smile, and Ray is helpless against the unwanted tug of attraction. It tightens something low in his stomach, like a loose thread being pulled.

Gerard contemplates the butt of his cigarette for a moment, takes a final drag and flicks it off the roof. He inclines his head in Ray's direction and rocks back on his heels before leaning forward. Gerard's suspended in the air for an endless moment, paused while the sunlight flares around his silhouette, and then gravity takes hold and pulls him down. 

Ray rushes forward and peers over the edge, watches as Gerard's arms arc to meet over his head, a perfect swan dive receding into nothingness. "Fuck," he mutters, kicking at the gravel—

—and opens his eyes, the link cable tickling his ear as he automatically reaches to pull it lose. The display flashes _tracking lost_ and Ray huffs in annoyance.

 _better luck next time_ pops up on the burner node. "Asshole," Ray says, because there is no need to gloat. He knows when he is bested, and there's no shame in conceding defeat to a better opponent.

The dude that sold him the burner, a friend-of-a-friend, she'd sworn to him that it was untraceable. Clearly not.

There wasn't a return node, no way for Ray to trace it back. He is unsurprised, because you don't get as good as Gerard is by making simple mistakes.

But sooner or later, Gerard would slip up.

And Ray would be waiting.

* * *

It starts, like so much of his biz does, with an anon link to a dead drop. 

Inside there's a coinkey and a file. The key links to...a lot of coin.

Ray likes to keep his digital footprint as small as possible; he's a tiny fish in a ocean filled with hungry sharks, and he's fine with that. It keeps him safe. But he's got a rep, and word gets around: if you want the best for data retrieval, you want Ray. And Ray has a strict policy of requiring a substantial non-refundable retainer up front.

He leaves the coin alone for now; once it hits his account he's hired, and he likes to have an idea about what a job entails before he commits himself.

It's a habit that's saved his ass before. It probably will again, because Ray has a foolish habit of getting in over his head. He likes a challenge, though, so it's rare that he says no. Especially with _this_ amount of coin on offer.

Ray downloads the file and reviews it, whistling at the sheer balls of whoever jacked the data package. It was well-guarded, trapwired and alarmed, and _still_ someone snuck in and snatched it—

He starts to get the sinking feeling that he knows who snagged the data.

Gerard.

* * *

Of course it's Gerard. 

Ray spends time looking over the information he has on Gerard. He's amassed terabytes, searching for clues, looking for context, trying to understand.

He watches video footage of Gerard, everything from interviews at hidden locations to grainy surveillance cameras. He's always in black, and the harsh lighting makes his pale skin absolutely stark in comparison.

He listens to Gerard talk about freedom and justice and _truth_ , words quick and nasal, a Noreast accent that's so familiar that it makes Ray homesick.

Ray reviews the bytes of data again and again, even though he's read it all before. He knows about Gerard's origin story: his family, growing up in the poorer parts of the Noreast, protecting his younger brother. Ray gets that. Family matters.

What he doesn't get is Gerard's earnest, unjaded desire to help make the world a better place. There's no room for that sort of bright naivety in this darkness. He should have been eaten alive. An old-fashioned hacktivist fighting against ultra-efficient and coldly logical megacorps, a throwback to a different time and place.

Ray doesn't get it. 

He knows every public detail about Gerard, and a bunch that have never seen the light of day; he's well versed in all the minutiae of Gerard's life. But he can't see the bigger picture, doesn't understand the _whys_ , just doesn't understand.

He's not sure he ever will.

* * *

Ray sets up his trapwires carefully, and it's not long after dawn when the alarm wakes him. He connects without even opening his eyes, moving on autopilot, plug sliding into the socket. The connection is slightly loose, and Ray wiggles the plug a little—

—he's at a night market. Taiwan, or maybe Jakarta, it's hard to tell. It's crowded and chaotic, overwhelming. Too many sounds and sights, buzzing bright neon, the close press of bodies, and vendors calling out in a dozen different languages. His translation app stutters at the onslaught before giving up and flatlining.

He can smell the offerings of a handful of food carts, and his stomach rumbles. He's hungry, and the oddness of that idea distracts him for a moment.

The crowd moves him along like a swift current, and he finds himself at a noodle cart, sheltered from the rush of people, like a quiet eddy in a river. He looks at the man behind the giant wok and it's Gerard, wearing a white apron over his perpetual black. 

While Ray watches, Gerard cracks an egg into the ladle and gives it a stir with his chopsticks before dumping it into the oiled wok. He adds a handful of vegetables; Ray recognizes bok choi, carrots, and some sort of green bean, but the rest are a mystery to him. With a practiced flick of his wrist, Gerard tosses the vegetables a few times before adding noodles and a ladleful of sauce. The concoction simmers on the flame while Gerard adds spoonfuls of spices and swirls everything in the wok.

It's mesmerizing, watching Gerard's strong hands as he works, and it's not long before Gerard's sliding the noodles into a paper bowl and presenting them to Ray.

There's a smudge of flour on his face, and he grins cheekily at Ray, as he hands him the sizzling noodles, studded with shrimp and vegetables, glazed with sauce. Ray takes the bowl in self-defense; it smells delicious and his mouth waters. Spurred on by the growling of his stomach, he gives in, snagging a pair of chopsticks off the cart and takes a bite.

The noodles are spicy, unexpectedly so, and the flavors are bright and sharp on his tongue. It's been a long time since he's tasted something as interesting as this. He closes his eyes to savor the experience, the prickle of hot pepper offsetting the sweet of the sauce and—

 _tracking lost_ flashes once, twice, before fading away.

The burner node _tings_ at the receipt of a new message. _you liked the noodles_

Ray can only laugh at Gerard's audacity. Another minute or two and Ray would have had a lock on Gerard's signal. It would have been over. "They were fucking delicious," he murmurs to himself.

* * *

—a beach, white, powdery sand that felt soft between his bare toes. There is an large umbrella in the distance, wedges of yellow-blue-red-green shading a blanket laid out on the sand.

In the distance, Ray can hear the squeal of seagulls and the rhythmic roar of the sea. The air is heavy with salt, but he can't see the water, no matter what direction he looks in. There's nothing but stretches of sand as far as the eye can see. A beach with no ocean.

What Ray _can_ see is a figure in black sprawled out on the blanket under the umbrella. Of course it's Gerard, because that's just the way Ray's luck runs. He always finds Gerard is the least likely places.

The sun is warm, but the brightness strips away the shadows. There's nowhere to hide out here on this endless beach.

Gerard is propped up on his elbows, feet crossed, eyes hidden behind a stylish set of shades. He looks remote and gorgeous, long-legged and lean, and Ray feels the _want_ surging through his blood.

Ray drops down next to him, cross-legged, on the blanket. "Nice beach."

Gerard shrugs and sits up, examining Ray over the top of his sunglasses. His eyes are sharp and piercing, an intense brown-tinged green and Ray feels lost, looking into them. Gerard is close, so close that Ray can feel the fleeting brush of their bodies.

Before Ray can move, Gerard leans forward into his space and presses his mouth to Ray's. It surprises him, and all he can do is open his mouth at the touch of Gerard's tongue, and let him in.

Ray is hyperaware of every place they are touching and it just makes him want more. He presses closer, head tilting a little more, and Gerard sighs, melting into the kiss.

He doesn't remember lifting his hands up until they settle onto Gerard's shoulders, fingers clasping and holding on. Gerard is warm and solid under his hands, and Ray doesn't ever want to let go.

In the back of his mind, a clock is ticking away the seconds, like grains of sand trickling out of an hourglass. It's distracting, drawing his attention away from the way Gerard tasted, and it's annoying.

Gerard makes a dissatisfied little noise and pulls away. "Ray," he chides. a rueful smile crossing his face. "You're not paying attention."

"I'm sorry." Ray reaches out and touches Gerard's cheek, marveling at how pale and smooth—

—and he's back in his apt, link cable in his hand and a warmth in his belly.

_trace lost_

Ray touches his lips with a fingertip, disappointed that he can't taste Gerard any more.

_i love the way your mouth feels against mine_

Ray unwillingly smiles in answer.

* * *

The sheets are cool and tinged with lightest shade of green. Gerard's hair is dark in contrast, an unruly tangle around his head.

There's the hint of rain outside the window; the day is grey and soft, the kind that makes you want to burrow under the covers. A gentle breeze ruffles the curtains and Ray can smell the dampness, it smells like rich, loamy earth and growing things.

Ray presses his lips to the skin at the round of Gerard's shoulder, noses along his collar bone, follows the arch of his neck with his lips. Gerard is warm and lazy, humming contentedly under his breath as Ray explores the lines of his body, leaving behind kisses to mark his favorite places.

Gerard's skin feels silky under Ray's hands as he traces the curve of Gerard's spine. "Mmmmm," Gerard sighs, arching under the touch like a cat. His eyes flutter open and that fey smile that captivates Ray curves his lips. "Torture me all you want, I'm never gonna tell you what I did with the data," he drawls. 

Ray huffs out a laugh against the Gerard's neck, nipping lightly. "You're not as tough as you think," he says, dancing his fingers down Gerard's ribs, eliciting a series of giggles as he tries to squirm away from Ray's touch. "And I _know_ what you did with the data."

It had taken a lot of stealth, and a lot of connections, but Ray had eventually found the data trail. From Gerard to the International Anarchist Foundation to a host of direct op organizations around the world, a ripple effect of grassroots resistance. 

Gerard frowns. "Ah. Well, I hope your client wasn't too upset," he says. He plays at nonchalance, but Ray can feel the tension that tightens Gerard's shoulders.

"Dunno," Ray shrugs. "I didn't take their coin, turned down the job."

That startles a laugh out of Gerard, and he wraps his arms around Ray, holding tight.

-fin-


End file.
